


He Called Her Little Wolf

by hecalledherlittlewolf (orphan_account)



Series: The Wake of Avalon [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Half Drabble, Might Stay Short, Might Turn Into Something Long, Semi-Storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hecalledherlittlewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Master... you're not truly considering accepting her?"</p><p>Avalon Stone is unassuming upon first glance. How could she not be? She is a Wood Elf, after all, a rogue. But when she steps foot in the halls of Jorrvaskr, all of Whiterun shudders.</p><p>Even Vilkas can't tear his eyes from this force of nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~ This may turn into a long work, it may be just a collection of semi-storyline drabbles, it could be just this one piece and then I put my mind to something else. Haven't decided yet. Give me feedback!

I am about ninety-nine point nine percent sure that my sister is having much more fun than I am at the moment, what with her frolicking about the market and spending all of my coin on useless nonsense to decorate Breezehome with, and I am here staring into the face of possibly the grouchiest man I have ever met.

But his face is quite easy on the eyes, so I suppose it isn't too terrible.

"Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?"

And like that, my day just got considerably worse.

-

My trial in the crypt with Farkas was... interesting? That is a fair word. Watching a man turn into a beast and then back into a man was interesting. Yes, I can tell myself that.

Upon returning, the Circle welcomed me into the folds of the Companions. Most of them still call me whelp. I am starting to get used to it. I haven't bothered telling many of them my name. I doubt they would remember it anyway.

"Whelp," says that masculine voice that just drips with hatred.

"Vilkas," I say sharply, trying my best not to look at him. I can almost hear his brows furrow. He doesn't like that.

"I have a job for you," he says, placing his towering form near where I sit at one of the benches on the back porch of Jorvaskrr.

I don't bother to look at him. "I already have a job for Aela in Riften. Why else would I be doing this?" I gesture to the leather boots I am reinforcing with fresh, thick soles for a long journey.

"I've already talked to Aela, and she just sent Ria to Riften this morning. You're with me today."

I stop and glare up at him. "This _morning?_ You couldn't have told me this earlier? Like, before midday? I've been fixing these boots for an hour!" I scoff and stand, gathering up my materials, then turn to storm off.

Vilkas shrugs. "You needed to fix those anyway. Now get your pack, you're coming with me to Tumble Arch Pass."

"Tum--" I stop in my tracks and turn to look at him. "That's in Eastmarch! And isn't that a giant camp?"

He smirks. "Some woman has been running about the market begging any able-bodied warrior she sees to go fetch her a mammoth tusk. It's a fairly menial job, one we wouldn't normally take up, but she won't shut her face until she's holding a tusk."

I narrow my eyes. "And why did you have to have me for this?"

"Because that little crypt job with Farkas may have been your trial, but I want to see what you can do for myself."

"And you have to pit me against a mammoth to do that?"

"Got anything better to do?"

I purse my lips and fling one of my boots at him. "You're finishing these damned things for me. Apparently I have to _pack."_ I fling the other one at him and slam the leather work onto the table. I can still hear him chuckling as I stomp into the long hall.

-

"You do recall that mammoths are the pets of giants, right?" I say irritably, trudging through the snow toward firelight in the distance. Only a giant would need a fire that big to warm itself.

"You do recall that complaining is not helping you any, right?" he quips back, his jaw set. He's got into battle mode now, mentally preparing himself.

I reach behind my back and ready my longbow with an arrow, the black material seeming to flow from my hand. A true masterpiece.

Vilkas eyes the weapon distrustfully. "Where the hell did you get that thing, anyway?"

"I made it," I reply.

He lifts a brow. "With _what?"_

I grin. "Some ebony and a few Daedra hearts, that's all."

He actually stops short in his tracks. "Daedra hearts...?"

This time, I actually let out a laugh. I bend over and pull a dagger from my boot, one of my favorite weapons. It is called the Mehrunes Razor.

"I had to fight a lot of Daedra to get this beauty, and a lot of Daedra equals a lot of hearts."

The conversation ends abruptly at the sound of a loud rumble. Thunder? No.

Stomping.

"Shit," I swear, turning on my heels and loosing the arrow straight into the abdomen of a hulking giant, who glares down at me with wise, furious eyes. A grandfather scolding a child.

I hear Vilkas's voice screaming for me to run, but my brain has clicked into a different set of senses. I'm in battle mode.

I dive forward, curling into a roll, and slide right between the beast's legs. My body moves quicker than my brain can keep up, raw instinct kicking in, and before I even realize I made the action, another arrow is sent flying and hits its mark right at the base of the giant's skull.

It sways oddly for a moment, then falters at the knees and lurches forward, crumpling to the ground. The snow heaved up by the impact of the giant's landing paints Vilkas's entire front white.

I grin triumphantly, panting. The adrenaline is insane. My brain is just starting to catch up with the rest of me, and my heart is beginning to slow. The blood flow bursting through my veins is like a distant drumming in my ears.

"Bloody-!" Vilkas's voice fails him before he can finish the sentence, staring wide-eyed at the crumpled heap of the giant.

I let out a choked laugh and approach the corpse, crouching next to it at the waist. Just as I hoped, a large, ivory tusk is dangling from the giant's belt. I cut the rope binding it to the leather piece of the belt and hold it up for Vilkas to see. He gives a nod and then turns toward the camp, where the large fire is still burning like a beacon.

Then he starts traipsing toward it.

" _Vilkas!"_

He doesn't stop, trudging on ahead. I swear under my breath and toddle after him in the snow. A glistening downpour of flakes has started to flurry around us and the snow is nearing the height of my knees.

" _Vilkas!_ There could be more giants in the campsite!" I harshly whisper to him, loud enough for him to hear over the wind. He is utterly ignoring me.

When we near the camp, his pace slows finally and I catch up, huddling close behind him to peer around his side. The camp looks empty. I groan and shove my way past him, heading for the fire. I can practically hear his face curling into a smug grin.

"Ass," I snarl.

"Whelp," he quips back.

-

We arrive back at the doors of Jorvaskrr just as the sun is peaking out from beneath her blanket. Only a handful of others are awake.

The woman in the market was beside herself with joy when we presented her with the tusk. She started blathering on about Khajiit caravans and promised to teach me a few things about her trade. Seems kind of pointless. I already know just about everything there is to know about speech.

The thought takes me back to a different time, a memory from not so long ago. A dark, dank hideout in the rat-holes beneath a bustling city in the southeast.. Friendly, trusting faces always ready to boast a tale and laugh and drink.

The memory fills me with a wave of nostalgia. There are no friendly faces here. There isn't a soul in this bright, warm hall that trusts me, save perhaps Kodlak.

I place myself in the farthest corner of the long hall I can find and sit on a bench, keeping to my thoughts.

It isn't long before I see a figure approaching in my periphery and look up to meet the face of Aela.

"Aela," I greet.

"Sister," she says. The word sounds odd on her lips. "I hope you are not offended that I traded with Vilkas."

I nearly snort. "Offended? No, of course not. Irritated that he didn't give me any more than a moment's notice? Perhaps."

Aela grins, leaning against the wall. "Yes, he is difficult like that. You will get used to it."

"Do I have to?" I remark, more to myself. She answers anyway.

"Yes. You do." Her voice doesn't sound harsh in any way, but there's a double-tone to it that I cannot place. I can see her watching me with a meaningful look in the corner of my eye, but her meaning is lost on me.

"Fantastic," I mutter snidely.

Aela pats my shoulder and rises, heading to the feast table. She claps Skjor on the back and riles up a conversation, laughing loudly at something he says.

I watch their exchange with a hint of longing.

Must be nice to have comrades.


	2. Chasing Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This isn't a test, new blood. This is a gift."
> 
> Avalon is given the beast blood, but when she and Aela return to Jorvaskrr alone, a wave of grief rips through the Companions.
> 
> How can she share in their grief when they are mourning someone who was barely more than a stranger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep a look out for the -A- and -V- points. I switch POV periodically through this chapter  
> -A- begins Avalon's POV.  
> -V- begins Vilkas's POV.

**"If I lay here... if I just lay here... would you lie with me and just forget the world?"**

 

The look on Aela's face when we burst through the door to the main chamber and she sees the crumpled heap of bloody wolf armor in the corner is the worst pain I have ever seen in my life.

Aela lets out a strangled growl and charges into the room, sending arrows soaring one after the other until she's carved her way to Kev the Skinner.

I offer my own flurry of arrows here and there, knocking out a few of her obstacles, but she barely notices. I can just imagine what she's seeing right now: a black tunnel focused solely on the hulking Silver Hand leader before her. My efforts are lost on her.

"FOR SKJOR!" she shrieks as she blocks his sword strike with the limb of her bow, spinning on her heels and grabbing an arrow from her quiver at the same time, then shoving it into his gut with her bare hands. Kev's face falls blank and his skin turns bone white, then Aela yanks her arm back and the arrow is freed. The warrior crumples at her feet, his blood staining her shoes.

Aela lets out a choked whimper and crouches beside Skjor, bowing her head over his body. I approach her slowly, standing near enough to be there for her but far enough to give her space.

"The bastards... somehow they managed to kill Skjor.." she growls, tears welling in her eyes. Her voice is fierce. She is choking down her sorrow and channeling pure white-hot rage.

"Who is our next target?"

Aela smirks. "Good that you're so eager.. I'll give you the information when we get back to Jorvaskrr... Go on without me."

She closes her eyes and furrows her brows, fighting the urge to shatter.

I nod and head out the door. I can still hear her broken cries as the heavy door closes behind me.

 

-V-

I can smell the beast in her. The scent pulls a low snarl from my throat. She looks at me with wide eyes, caught off guard by my reaction.

"Problem, Vilkas?" her soft voice says, dripping with sarcasm. I don't care how damned infuriated I am with her, that voice still scatters my brain.

I respond with a frustrated grunt and turn, stomping my way out the doors of Jorvaskrr. There is only one person I am looking for right now.

_"Aela!"_

I find her in the Underforge, sitting on the ground beside the fountain with her legs drawn up, her head on her knees.

"Yes, brother?" she says with a hint of annoyance.

"You _turned_ her!? What the hell were you thinking!?" I snarl.

Aela looks up with raised eyebrows. "Are you trying to say how dare I? You may as well piss on the girl, Vilkas."

I flinch. I hate how well she knows me.

"Kodlak sees something in her," she continues. "I knew he wanted her in the Circle, but he was too stubborn to do it himself, so Skjor and I took the initiative. You can't change it now, brother."

I knit my brows and turn from her, growling deeply. "She doesn't deserve this. She has no idea what she's stepped in, how it's going to change her."

My mind flickers to her eyes, the deep golden hue with flecks of green. Her elven heritage gifts her larger eyes than other races. Most find the large elven eyes odd or disturbing; but on her, gods, they take my breath away.

I can just imagine her in wolf form, a snarling, agile beast racing through the trees in the night. I can see how her black fur would shine in the moonlight, those large, golden-green eyes shimmering like the stars.

"Do not think that you can convince me you don't like her this way. It suits her," Aela says.

The corners of my mouth turn down irritably. It was true, even if I never admitted it. Just a few miles of forest and a bit of moonlight...

"Damn it, woman!" I snarl and march out of the Underforge. She chuckles behind me as the stone door slides shut.

 

-A-

"Alice?"

The door of Breezehome slides shut behind me. I hang my bow and quiver on the weapon rack against the wall and take in the room.

The smell of the soup over the firepit is overwhelming. I've never smelled something so strong.

No, not strong. _Strongly_.

The soup isn't strong. My senses are.

The light from the fire is blinding in the dim room. I cringe and try to look anywhere but at the goat-horn sconces along the wall.

The sound of small feet touching onto the wood floor upstairs is strikingly clear, as if I've been kicked in the side of the head. My ears wiggle, as if I were trying to flick them to gather the sound. My senses aren't as strong as they would be in my beast form, but they are still stunningly sharp. I can tell that my little sister is half-dressed in a light tunic and cotton pants before her bare feet even touch the first step of the stairs.

"Av? Is that you?" her small voice asks groggily.

"Of course," I say, sitting by the fire to pull my boots off. I discard them and start working on my many bracers and paddings. I should really rethink this leather armor. Too many buckles.

"Mm. I didn't know when you'd be home, so I made supper. Hope you don't mind nirnroot and garlic. It was all I could find in the market."

I turn to look at her as she settles into the chair beside me. I notice she brought a blanket with her, something I hadn't picked up before, as she tugs it around herself more tightly. It doesn't seem cold in here, but that might just be me. She leans closer to the fire, her eyes heavy.

"All you could find? I've been through the market a hundred times today; there's enough to feed an army out there!"

Alice smiles sheepishly. "Wrong choice of words. It was all I could afford." She glances around at the room, and I start to really take in how much has been added. She managed to overstuff the entire house. I'd be willing to bet the loft is just as full as the living area.

I sigh, finally pulling off the last bit of thick leather and tossing it to the side. Alice eyes it irritably, probably fantasizing about picking it up and beating me with it. She has always been much neater than I ever was.

"We lost someone today. I didn't know him well, but the others have known him forever. I don't really know how to face them when I don't share their grief. Everyone is so wrecked, and all I feel is the second-hand loss." I watch the fire lick at the air, my eyes finally adjusting to the light.

Alice stays quiet for a while, most likely thinking. Thinking of what to say, what not to say, how to react, if she should react at all. She over-analyzes. That's why I wield the bow and she decorates the home. She's a hearthkeeper, I'm her protector.

"You can't feel guilty for not understanding their grief. You didn't know him, you couldn't possibly have known him. He's not your loss to mourn. All you can do is let them feel their loss for now, let them heal, and be there for them. That's all they can ask of you."

"They don't have to ask."

Alice smiles. "I know."

We fall into silence again, both of us watching the flames. It almost feels like home for a few moments. The houses in the trees, the warm forest, the campfire circles.

But we're not in Valenwood anymore. We're in Skyrim, where it's cold and bitter and people die. We're not in the forest anymore.

My mind drifts to Helgen. The inn there was warm, as well. The hearth was bright and welcoming, the inn keeper was kind, and his special juniper berry mead was delicious. I'd even let Alice have some, just to get the taste. She loves juniper berries.

Loved. She loved juniper berries.

Now my sweet sister associates juniper berries with fire and darkness and people screaming.

I didn't understand when they paraded the wagons of criminals through the streets. I didn't understand why the general had called the fur-cloaked man a traitor, the starter of a war, the means to an end. I didn't understand until the soft-spoken bard with silvery blond hair and lovely blue eyes had leaned over and told me about the civil war that I was oblivious to. She told me what I had led my sister into.

As if it wasn't bad enough I marched her into the middle of a war. I just had to settle her into the one village in all of Skyrim where a dragon would fall out of the sky.

There were ten seconds before the dragon reached the village where everyone in the square was completely still, completely silent, where everyone still thought dragons were a myth, a legend. Even as we were watching that huge, black creature heading right for us.. we held onto the legend.

Then it shrieked and shredded the sky.

I can still see that bard woman's lovely blue eyes filled with fear right before the turned to flee, and the dragon caught her running... picked her out of the frantic, horrified crowd... and sent a ball of inferno crashing into her path..

"Avalon!"

I'm jerked from my thoughts by my sister's voice. Her large, golden eyes are staring at me with the kind of concern that said she knew exactly where my thoughts had taken me.

"What?" I ask, my eyes just as wide as hers.

"Your boot's on fire," she points to the firepit.

"Wha- damn it!"

It takes five minutes to beat the flames off my leather boot, which had fallen over into the pit. I toss the thing aside, giving a mournful sigh at the black scorch marks marring the leather.

"What were you thinking about so deeply?" Alice asks, though we both know the answer already. I notice that she's standing now, her blanket still wrapped tightly around her.

"Juniper berries," I say simply.

She frowns and nods, understanding, and turns to head back to her room. I lean forward and hold my head in my heads, breathing deeply.

"Juniper berries.." I whisper to myself, my mind still on fire and screaming and fear. "Damn juniper berries."

 

-V-

I've never seen anyone fight like her.

She can fire arrows almost as fast as I can swing my sword. One after the other, sometimes two at once, if she's the time to nock them.

"Hey, whelp! It isn't cheap to replace those things, you know!" I call to her after she puts at least the hundredth hole in one of the target dummies.

She lets out a laugh. "I'm not going to be satisfied until I've shot so many holes into it, I'm practically shooting at a hay bale!"

I smirk. There is just something about that snarky voice of hers that makes me wonder why I ever bothered listening to the bards. They don't hold a candle to the sound of her voice.

"Avalon," I say smoothly.

The shock of hearing me say her name is enough to make her send an arrow into the stone wall a foot above the target's head. She turns to gape at me, eyes wide. The sight makes my smile grow a bit.

"Take a break, whelp, you're going to have a heat stroke."

She takes a moment to be blankly stunned, then gathers herself enough to dumbly nod and turn to fetch her arrows. The one she shot into the wall is snapped in two.

 

-A-

The feast table in Jorvaskrr is bursting with conversation. Loud fits of laughter echo through the hall, and everyone seems to be smiling. I wonder what I've just stumbled into.

Farkas notices me from the far end of the table and waves me over. "Avalon! Get over here!"

I wander over and try to pick up on the conversation, or at least some semblance of what is going on. It only takes two words hanging off the end of a sentence I barely catch to understand.

"....Vilkas's birthday."

Aela claps Vilkas on the shoulder and laughs, and I realize that his face is bright red.

"Oh, come on, you're kidding!" says Ria, laughing as well.

"It's true! He was so cute as a little one, all short and bulky. He was a stubby thing, I'm telling you! And little Farkas was always trailing right behind him, obedient as a pup. You couldn't put a feather between them," Aela says, pinching Vilkas's cheek. He grumbles and pulls away from her.

Oh, yeah. He and his brother have lived here their whole lives. Everyone here knew them as children.

Looking around the room, I start to notice that their names seem to be on everyone's lips. Is this what birthdays in the Companions are like? Bright and warm and cheerful, even in the wake of the death of one of their own? This is all it takes?

Maybe I should lie and tell them it's my birthday, too.

Aela's face goes a bit darker and she stands, taking her tankard with her. She adjusts her chair, then steps up onto it and then onto the table. She calls out in a loud voice, "Brothers and sisters! Let us raise a glass in celebration and remembrance!"

Remembrance?

"Tonight we celebrate the anniversary of the births of both our brothers Farkas and Vilkas... and our fallen comrade Skjor! Happy birthday, Shield-Brothers!"

_Oh._

Everyone in the hall stands and raises their tankards and goblets high, cheering and howling and striking the table with their fists and beating their feet on the ground. As Aela steps off the table and settles back into her seat, I just barely catch the shimmer of tears streaming down her cheek before she quickly wipes them away.

I turn and smile to Farkas, who seems to have gone a few shades darker as well, and wrap my arms around his neck tightly.

"Happy birthday, Farkas," I say softly. He hugs me back tightly.

I turn toward Vilkas, knowing he'd never let me anywhere near him for a hug, but I give him a meaningful nod and he nods in return.

"Happy birthday, Vilkas," I say, raising my goblet to him. Wait, when did I get a drink?

He gives a slight smile and raises his tankard in return. "Thank you, Avalon."

_Happy birthday, Skjor.._  I whisper in my mind, raising my goblet a bit to the sky and then gulping the rest of my drink.

 

-V-

The night air is refreshing after being in the center of a bustling crowd of hot, sweaty, over-excited warriors for hours.

_By the Nine, I hate birthdays..._

Skjor's birthday was often overlooked. It was all about the twins, the Companion golden boys who grew up in the long hall. Practically Kodlak's own blood.

Skjor's birthday never seemed like much next to ours, but tonight... we raised our tankards to him.

I had never imagined his birthday.. our birthday.. being a difficult thing, beyond the usual exhausting celebrations and congratulations. Tonight it was dark. Everyone felt that shadow of grief that has been plaguing us since Aela and Avalon returned without him, and tonight, it was as thick and black as ever.

To my surprise, Avalon is laying on the ground in the training yard, staring up at the sky.

"Avalon," I say, getting her attention.

"Vilkas," she says, not moving.

I walk to the edge of the porch and lean against a pillar. "You're going to freeze to death."

"Probably."

"Poetic type, eh? Freeze to death in the moonlight under the stars on the night of a fallen comrade's birthday?" I ask, sipping my mead.

"He wasn't my comrade."

Her words stun me. I can't even form the words spit out how the statement feels like a punch in the gut.

"I don't mean it like that," she says, reading my thoughts. She must have taken my silence as a hint. "I didn't know him. I spoke to him, what, twice? When he assigned the crypt job as my trial and when he turned me into a wolf. That's it. He wasn't my comrade, he was just another warrior. I didn't know him well enough to mourn him. I mourn your loss, I mourn the Companion's loss, I mourn the loss of a life.. but I don't know how to mourn a stranger."

"He wasn't a stranger, Avalon. He was your blood."

"Wolf blood doesn't count."

I practically snarl, "Of course it counts!"

She sits up this time, looking at me squarely. "My _sister_ is my blood! She is my _only_ blood! She isn't dead, so I'm not going to mourn! I don't share your grief, Vilkas, and I'm sorry. I can't make myself mourn a man I barely knew, and do you know how much I hate that? He wasn't my blood, wolf or otherwise."

"So what am I, then, huh?" I snap, choking on the words as they come out quicker than I can stop them.

Avalon stares at me, stunned. "You're.. a comrade," she says slowly, after several heartbeats. "I don't know if you're blood, not yet, but... you're definitely a comrade. I would mourn you if you died."

I sit on her words a moment, letting them sink in fully. That's... not what I expected. At all. It's more than I hoped.

"I.. feel the same," I say simply, feeling stupid. I am less than eloquent, let alone when it comes to speaking my mind, or my _feelings_. It feels cheap to borrow off of what she's already said.

She nods and lays back down, turning her attention back to the sky.

After a moment, I gulp down the rest of my mead and head out into the yard, lowering myself to the ground beside her. I feel her eyes watching me, but I don't meet her gaze. I focus on the stars high above us, and the moon illuminating the black sky. Everything looks so... big from here, from on the ground. I've never really thought about it.

"Juniper berries," I just barely hear her whisper to herself. I'm sure she didn't mean for me to hear it, so I don't bother questioning her on it. She whispers it several times while we lay here, gazing up at the ominous sky.

"Damn juniper berries."


End file.
